


Sacrament of Sin

by ACatWhoWrites



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Priests, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Author was Raised Catholic, Catholic Guilt, Catholicism, Devils, Good Demons, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inaccurate Catholicism, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Minor Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Minseok | Xiumin, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26443288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACatWhoWrites/pseuds/ACatWhoWrites
Summary: Father Do Kyungsoo makes a deal with the devil so the damned thing will behave in church.
Relationships: Do Kyungsoo | D.O/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46
Collections: K-Pop Ficmix 2020





	Sacrament of Sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [XiuChen4Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fear No Evil](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20354167) by [XiuChen4Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/XiuChen4Ever). 



> Please heed tags and **warning/s:** implied noncon (in a dream; it's not graphic), mentions of blood, minor character death
> 
> Some quotes are taken directly from the original work. It was too brief for my liking, so I had to add more conflict and good ol' Catholic guilt. The Bible quotes are from the American Standard Version, which were easiest for me to understand. For some mood setting, I'd recommend [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jhK2ev_O-pc), which has been stuck in my heart for solid months, now.

Autumn days dawn rather gray and misty, tempting Father Do Kyungsoo to sleep in. Having just returned from Europe, he’s even more content to just lie in bed and doze, but he knows the best way to get rid of his jetlag is to get up and return to his usual daily chores.

So after his morning routine and prayers, he walks the pews for any leftover litter from previous masses and lights a couple candles for his grandparents. After months overseas, in a college and cathedral constantly filled with people, it’s almost overwhelming being in the quiet.

He’s always preferred the quiet, though, and takes a moment to just stand still in the foyer of the church, leaning on the broom before pulling it from the closet and sweeping away some dried dirt that always piles up from people coming and going.

Outside, he inhales the petrichor, the wet leaves and earthy smell that only comes out when it rains. The rain isn’t heavy, but it is persistent. A clinging mist that dribbles down his glasses and blurs his vision just enough to be annoying.

He sweeps the debris from the steps that blew in during the night, crushing some of the crisper leaves just for the satisfying crunch. He used to love that as a child, trudging through high piles of leaves and falling into them just to rake them all up to play in again.

On the third step, the bottom leaves are wet with rain and stick together. Lifted from the stone stair, however, they glisten red.

Heart in his throat, he hurriedly sweeps leaves aside and follows the trail of blood down the steps and over the grass; something is recently injured. Is the trail coming or going?

He turns to return inside for more appropriate shoes to investigate the trail and nearly trips. Beside the heavy doors is a man, slouched with his chin on his chest. 

Upon closer examination, Father Do notices the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, so he is still breathing, but there are vicious scratches and what appear to be burns over his arms and face.

Unfortunately, Father Kim is on visitation at a hospital that morning—he’s still not seen his friend since returning from Italy—so Father Do has no help in bringing the stranger inside. He is, however, strong and fit, and although the young man is much taller than himself, he loops his arms beneath the man’s and drags him around from his resting place and through the double doors.

As they cross the threshold, the man starts to writhe and moan, voice rising to a scream.

With some added effort, Father Do manages to deposit the man onto a pew. He seems to be somewhat awake. Beads of sweat sit on his forehead, and he’s hot to the touch.

“I’ll call a doctor,” Father Do soothes, trying to prevent the man from moving too much. “Please rest.”

The man shifts beneath his hand, pushing himself more upright and rolling his head to his shoulder. “Don’t… bother...” His eyelashes flutter; he flinches beneath the bright light but meets Father Do’s concerned gaze.

The priest’s heart drops to his stomach, and his muscles tense, but he doesn’t run like his brain warns him to. “You appear to have a head injury,” Father Do explains. He needs to get away and prepare. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine such a day. Not so soon. “Please let me call a doctor for you.”

Light amber eyes with elongated, horizontal pupils blink slowly, and a sharp, wide smile parts the man’s mouth. He drags the back of his hand over his mouth, looking at the smear of black highlighted green in the light.

“ _Demon._ ” Father Do clutches the crucifix hanging from his neck beneath his shirt. “I cast thee out! You will not sully these holy walls.”

“You cannot cast me out. _You_ brought me into sanctuary, willing and unthreatened. As I remain within these walls, I am safe,” he licks the blood from beneath his nose with a forked tongue, “so within these walls I shall stay.

“I should thank you, Father,” he leans forward as the priest leans back, “for saving my life. Allow me to repay you—”

“There is nothing in the world—yours or mine—that I would ever accept.”

“Are you absolutely certain about that? There’s so much I can offer.”

“Nothing. I’m familiar with your temptations, leading good people off their righteous paths.” He drops his crucifix and stands upright. “I renounce any sanctuary you think you have, and I will destroy you before your paths cross.”

The demon frowns, almost a pout. “That’s not very nice. We only just met.” His wounds are superficial or fake, because he stretches his long limbs and gets to his feet. Father Do tilts his head back to look up at his face.

“You are so cute,” the demon murmurs to himself. Louder, he adds, “No one told me humans were so endearing, especially not religious ones.”

Father Do scoffs. “Endearing? What exactly about throwing you out is endearing?”

“The fact that you try even though you have been made aware that you cannot.” Turning away, he ambles down the aisle to read the plaques beneath the large, stained glass windows. Each shows an image from the Passion of Christ. “Do humans always try so hard, even when there’s no hope of success?”

“The brave ones do,” Father Do replies. “Because there’s always hope.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure… By the way, what do you have to eat around here? I’m starving.”

“I am not feeding a demon.”

“I have abjured, coming here, and you brought me into your house. You must care for me, protect me from those of my kind who would harm me.” Perhaps that’s how he became injured. Lesser demons are even more desperately corrupt for corruption, gunning for any creature to lure and tempt and destroy. They are the ones Father Do learned to exorcise; he doesn’t know if he can handle such a powerful single demon on his own.

Maybe if the right passage is found, he can be weakened and cast out.

“You can’t have my soul. Or anyone else’s.”

The demon pulls a face, shaking his head as he touches the flames of lit candles, turning them blue briefly. “I don’t want your soul. What would I even do with it?”

“Seal it forever in the fiery pit of Hell?”

Blowing a raspberry, the demon draws a flame into his hand, rolling it over his palm before pouring it back to the candle's charred wick. “ _Boring_. And not my department, anyway. As far as I’m concerned, you can keep your stupid soul—just give me your spice.”

“Spice?”

“Yes,” he turns eagerly, eyes bright and pupils round, “the spiciest food you have. Make me some homemade pepper sauce.” He holds up a hand, pointing at the priest with a grin. “And don’t say you can’t, because I know you can. You’re a talented cook. I can smell it. This nose,” he taps it, “knows.”

Father Do scowls, but if he doesn’t feed the damned thing, he just knows he’ll be arguing all day, and he has better things to do. “...I have some extra-spicy tteokbokki in the fridge.”

The demon claps his hands with childlike excitement. “I love tteokbokki!” He follows when Father Do gestures to the front of the church, where a side door opens to the rectory he and Father Kim share.

A hall leads straight to an exterior door; other doors flank the hall, leading to bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen, and sitting room. The demon’s stride is longer, and he goes ahead to peer into open doorways just to circle back and walk at the priest’s heels.

Pulling the rice cakes from the fridge, Father Do adds fish cakes, scallions, and boiled eggs, preparing them on plates while under the demon’s watchful, curious eyes. He leans on his elbows, already feeling at home and seated at the table.

“This is nice. A whole spread, just for me?”

“I’ve not eaten yet this morning.”

“Oh, for shame. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!” He accepts the chopsticks and microwaved plate eagerly. “You gonna tell me your name, or am I just going to call you Daddy?”

“Do that, and I’ll baptize you,” Father Do replies flatly. He feels the twitch of a smile when the demon flinches, recognizing the serious threat. “My name is Do Kyungsoo.”

“Such a handsome name for a handsome man. Far too handsome to be doomed to be forever alone.”

“I’m never alone with God by my side.”

“Uh huh. Such great company; a real role model in humility and compassion.” He thumps his chest with a fist, coughing up a bit of rice. “So nice to finally make your acquaintance, Father. My name is—”

“I don’t care to know it, if it won’t eject you from this house.”

“It won’t, but I was just trying to be friendly. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, you know.”

“You’re far from my idea of a roommate.” Before becoming a priest, he spent a year in a college dormitory. He shared a room with a boy whose idea of a good time was playing video games at all hours, drinking himself stupid, and going to parties. Somehow, he managed to maintain good grades, but Father Do was happy to see the end of the school year and move back home.

He jumps when something soft bumps against his leg. Leaning over, he greets Father Kim’s cat, Tan, who trills back and rubs along his shins a few times. Picking apart a bit of fish cake, he sets it down on a napkin for her, and she delicately crouches down with her tail alongside her to eat.

“She’s pretty.”

“Father Kim’s cat.” He’s surprised she’s so near the demon. Animals usually have heightened senses when it comes to bad-natured people and the supernatural, but once she’s eaten her fill and cleaned her whiskers, she approaches the newcomer and accepts his fingers beneath her chin.

Having made her appearance, Tan leaves the kitchen, tail high, and draws her cheeks over the doorframe before looking up and down the hall and leaving.

They eat in silence. Chopsticks click and scrape over plates and dishes; a chicken-shaped clock ticks over the sink. The faucet drips a few times; Father Do may need to tighten it.

It's far too surreal, sitting across a table from—and sharing a meal with—a creature fallen from grace. He eats with single-minded gusto, ignorant or uncaring of the priest's guarded watchfulness.

A car pulls up the gravel driveway beside the rectory. Father Do leaves his seat and crosses to the window. The wet window makes the outside look distorted and misshapen.

He watches the familiar figure of his friend leave the driver’s seat and open a rear door, bringing a travel case of religious artefacts and books wrapped in a plastic bag to protect them.

“Friend of yours?” The demon stands at Father Do’s back, leaning over him with a bracing hand on the window frame.

“The other priest of this church, Father Kim—.” He pauses with a frown; someone’s footsteps run down the hall—much too heavy to be Tan’s—and jubilant greetings are muffled through many walls.

Ducking around the demon, Father Do rushes—but he does not run—the same hall as the mysterious footfalls and comes to a halt in the back foyer.

A man—young, trim, and entirely naked—is wrapped in Father Kim’s embrace, sharing a kiss with such enraptured passion that neither notice his presence until the demon whistles.

Father Kim jumps and looks at them with wide eyes.

The man merely gazes coolly, elongated pupils a giveaway to his sinful nature, unwilling to release the priest even as he fumbles and tries to step between the demon and Father Do. “Kyungsoo, I—”

“How hypocritical of you mortals.” The tall demon gestures at the duo sharply. “Try to cast out an honest demon you admitted yourself when there’s already one here! You have a single-demon policy or something?”

“The Lord is testing me… He works in mysterious and often frustrating ways, but what have I done in my life to deserve such trials?” Father Do mumbles to himself as he takes a carved olive wood crucifix from the wall and approaches the demon hiding behind Father Kim.

It’s the man himself who stops Father Do, however.

“Why do you stop me, Father Kim?” There’s leaden dread settling heavily in his gut. Their lives are devoted to the goodness of life and sharing the word of God, yet this man is actively going against all his holy vows and duties. “We cannot allow their kind to live freely among humans.”

“Jong’dae doesn’t live freely among humans; he lives freely here, apart from even the congregation aside from some chores…” He cautiously lifts his gaze from the priest to the demon. There’s a spot of orange sauce at the corner of his mouth that Father Kim points out by tapping his own lip. “I see there’s another one.”

“Another what? Another unholy hellion who’s claimed sanctuary in the church, refuses to leave, has a tremendous appetite for spicy food and an unceasing desire for temptation and seduction?

“How long has he been here?” Father Do gestures to Jong'dae with the crucifix.

Father Kim’s eyes shake, ashamed. “Six months.”

“ _Six months_!?” His entire semester abroad, he fondly thought of his good friend diligently running the church alone. Committed to his routine and offering a prayer before every soccer game.

Never did he imagine him returning the embrace of a demon.

“The children don’t like seeing Daddies fight,” Jong’dae says, drawing his arms up over Father Kim’s shoulders. He puckers his lips when the priest looks back at him, but when he doesn’t receive a kiss, he sticks his tongue out.

“Jong’dae, go get dressed, please.” The demon sighs through his nose but obeys, still completely unashamed in his nakedness. Numerous moles dot his skin; Father Do remembers someone calling them kisses from angels.

It couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Father Kim lifts his case, pointing to the sitting room. “Let’s talk in there, Soo.”

“‘Submit therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you.’ You’re obviously fond of him,” Father Do remarks.

“I am, but it didn’t start out that way." Father Kim closes the door behind him. "He came unexpectedly, seeking sanctuary. I couldn’t turn him away, even if he was a demon.”

“How hard did you try?” He can’t help the bitterness in his voice, and he quickly sits in one of the comfy armchairs, picking up the rosary sitting on the side table. It's familiar and comforting, like worry beads.

“I can still shepherd our congregation into loving their neighbors regardless of whether I sleep alone or not. I am not violating anyone unwilling; I remain unwed to any but the church and will father no children, and I am much better rested and less stressed—”

“No excuse could possibly forgive this, hyung.”

“And I offer no excuses. I’m just trying to explain what happened.” Father Kim sighs and runs a hand through his damp hair. It stands up in limp spikes which he tries to flatten by feel alone. Tossing his case and bag aside, he sits on the arm of a chair. The dim light from the window casts a shadow over his face, masking him like a stranger to Father Do. “I love him, Kyungsoo. That’s the simple truth. No person should be condemned for their love.”

“Jesus was. Will you be such a martyr?” He hates the ugly feeling in his heart but can’t bring himself to apologize. The man sitting away from him isn’t the man he befriended and looked up to.

He expects no answer and receives none. Leaving the rosary near Father Kim's slouched figure, Father Do quietly leaves.

Jong’dae is waiting outside, fully clothed but barefoot. He doesn’t say anything; there’s a coy sort of smirk and such a theatrical bow when he faces the priest and closes the door in his face.

Tan sits and meows, upset that her entry has been blocked. Father Do lifts her to his shoulder and carries her to the open hall of the church.

He needs to pray and ask for guidance.

Unfortunately, there is no miracle.

The demons both remain—Jong’dae following Father Kim like a shadow of sin and the other making himself out to be as much a distraction and nuisance as possible.

Over the days, they fall into a tense routine. Father Do talks to the others as briefly as possible, feeling more and more rotten as he notices the dejection keeping his friend’s shoulders tight and expression drawn. That, in turn, makes Jong’dae even more upset with Father Do, going out of his way to break the simple rules he set for the demons—

No public nudity or lewd acts.

No mingling with members of the church.

No touching holy artefacts.

Father Do feels the hair along the back of his neck and arms stand on end. Looking over his shoulder, he sees nobody at the door or rear pews. Up, however, in the choir loft, is the other demon. His shirt is open, hanging loose as he leans forward on his arms atop the banister.

They stare for a long moment, a moment that sears Father Do’s heart with something very much like hatred.

But the demon looks away, at something behind and below him. His laugh echos throughout the cavernous room, and he shrugs out of his shirt. Hands take his waist; Father Do leaves.

Father Kim is a friend of his; a mentor and a brother. Allowing a demon to draw him so far off the holy path and into the darkness is more than disappointing—it breaks Father Do’s heart.

He’ll have to report the conduct and demon to the Vatican. They’ll figure out what to do, and while nothing is illegal within mortal law, Father Kim will lose his station, honor, and respect.

The demon will lose its life.

“Are you trying to burn a hole through me with your mind?”

He’s shaken from his thoughts and blinks. He hadn’t realized he’s in the hall between the kitchen and bedrooms, facing the new demon—

—who wears a very human expression of concern. “You look upset. Did something happen?”

“Nothing a demon would care about, although that’s an extensive list.”

“Hey—” He scowls when the priest steps around him and side-steps to block him. “I am _not_ as bad as you think I am!” The man’s expression shakes him a little, and he inclines his head. “Okay, I know demons have a poor reputation, especially among you Catholics, but me, as an individual? Not nearly so bad.”

“I’m sure you spend a lot of time reading books to the blind and helping little old ladies across the street,” Father Do replies. Books about ocular miracles and leaving women in the middle of heavy traffic.

“Not exactly, but it’s not like I’m raping and pillaging villages!”

“‘The righteous is concerned for the rights of the poor; the wicked does not understand such concern.’ Just because you don’t do bad does not mean you are good.”

"Good and evil or bad are far from black and white. The Church has its own ideas that are separate from other religions and factions. The same action can mean damnation to one and nothing to another."

"We are aware of the conflict and individual difference, but some things are simply inexcusable."

"Like fucking."

Father Do shakes his head, feeling the heat in his ears. "There is nothing inherently wrong with sex."

"There isn't. There's a lot of good you could benefit from. I bet you're tense and experience headaches—” He smiles. “I could help with that."

"So can Chamomile tea."

“You think I’m tempting a man of the cloth,” his eyes fall over Father Do’s body, “but the only interest I have is the man beneath the cloth. But,” he adds with a shrug, "of all humans, I would expect a man of the cloth to know that I cannot force you into anything. My kind can only tempt. All these deadly sins you blame us for—lust, wrath, envy... We merely _suggest_. Present an idea. It is you who must ultimately agree.

“One could argue my kind are the originators of ‘continuous consent.’ We only do what humans allow.”

Father Do glowers at him. “Then why are you still here? I did not and do not consent to allowing you to stay.” He’s like a stubborn stray. Fed once, and the home is associated with a place to get a meal, so it’ll return time and again.

If it ever leaves in the first place.

The demon bends at the waist, leaning into Father Do’s space to speak low, as though sharing an intimate secret. “Because you are not the authority in this holy place. Sanctuary is submitting oneself to divine law above any other, and God still recognizes me as His child, wayward though I may be.”

“You are no child of God.”

“I am.” He shakes his head. “Cast out and neglected, I was punished for the simplest act of loving humans as much as I adored my father. But _He_ made you in _His image!_ Why is loving His flesh and blood so wrong?” A flash of something in his eyes, an instant of regret and sadness and then gone, makes Father Do almost comfort the demon.

But a sad childhood can explain future behavior, not excuse it. Only by repeated sins and acts against God could a single demon become so powerful as to keep their own body and corrupt soul. Lesser demons band together to possess a human.

“If you’re seeking forgiveness, I’m not the one to talk to. If you’re looking for forgiveness, I’m still not the one to talk to.”

“Maybe I’m just looking for a little sympathy.”

“You won’t find it with me.” Father Do walks around him, leaving him in the middle of the hall.

Somehow, that drives the demon to more frequent action. Wherever Father Do is within the rectory or church, there is the demon—lying across the altar or over a pew with his legs spread, dripping molten wax down his chest, wielding the dry aspergillum like something obscene.

“If you won’t leave,” Father Do says as he snatches the aspergillum away and holds it over the basin holy water, “at least behave yourself.”

“Behaving is boring,” the demon grouses like a spoiled brat, although he flinches and dodges when splashed at. He acts a lot like a child, Father Do has noticed. Petulant, demanding. “I’d much rather play—” He puts a hand against the wall on either side of Father Do’s head— “with you. I know you want to play with me, too. I can see it in the way you can’t even look at me without blushing.”

“You’re delusional, Demon.”

Delusional but handsome. Their kind are made with temptation in mind.

If he was younger, Father Do knows the temptation would be harder to resist. There was a time... But now he has Father Kim and Jong’dae to remind him of his righteous path and his faith to keep him from straying as well as from murdering the demon with his bare hands.

“You do realize that you are doing yourself no favors. Your own _scientific research_ states sex is healthy: reduced blood pressure and lower stress levels—both you could benefit from. No offense.”

“Most priests are celibate by choice. Never assume that I didn’t give my body to others before I gave it to God.”

The demon stares wide-eyed, then grins, but Father Do doesn’t allow him to speak.

“And while it is rooted in tradition, rather than dogma, clerical celibacy allows me time to focus on my congregation and emulate Jesus—also an unmarried man.”

“An unmarried man who lived with twelve other men and openly proclaimed love for them…” He pauses, looking at the stained glass of Jesus’s crucifixion. “Not that it did him any good. That bitch snitch Judas sold him out for thirty pieces of silver and a kiss. Death was too good for him.

“I prefer him randomly imploding and gushing blood all over an open field”

“According to Luke, Satan entered Judas the night before Passover, and that’s why he accepted the bribe to betray Jesus. His actions also lead to the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ.”

The demon holds up fingers as he counts off points. “Okay, one: No one else says that. Two: So it’s okay that he got his boy killed? Dude… That’s happier-ish than the belief that he’s a personification of the Jewish people, I guess, but still. Others imply that Jesus told him to do it, and Judas only did because he was told and thus also was the only one to know Jesus’s true teachings.” He catches the priest’s furrowed frown and shakes his head. “What?”

“You know your Bible.”

“...Duh? We all do. I used to really love the stories.” He flips through a hymnal, unfolding dogeared pages. “But then I was kicked out and got angry. I still remember them, though. Amazing how selectively you priests teach them.” He laughs humorlessly and replaces the hymnal in its pocket.

He’s trying to shake Father Do’s faith and make him question things that had, until then, been absolute.

He’s an absolute nuisance, and has been right from the beginning.

The first night in the rectory, he follows Father Do into his room and jumps onto the bed, stretching out with a sigh. “Not bad. I hope you don’t snore.”

“Whether I do or not won’t matter to you. You’re sleeping on the sofa.”

“What? That sounds awful.”

Father Do shrugs. “You can take the floor, if you’d rather.”

“Can’t I even be in the same room? I get scared by myself.”

Father Do ignores him and takes his robe and pajamas into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. The doorknob tries to turn, and he hears the demon whine again.

He’s prepared for the hand on his shoulder and feels some satisfaction when the demon recoils, hissing as the flesh of his palm blackens and peels. “What the hell, you bathe in holy water?”

“I blessed the shower before using it. Just in case you tried to _suggest_ something without words.” The demon cringes as he picks the blistered skin away, new flesh already covering his hand. “Good night.” Father Do closes his bedroom door and locks it.

Heaven forbid the demon should take that as a hint.

Rather than physical seduction, however, he merely changes tactics, deciding if he can’t have Father Do’s body, he can corrupt his mind and destroy his resolve from the inside.

One night, a couple weeks into the new demon’s stay, Father Do has an unusual but unsettlingly familiar dream.

Large hands leave a scorching trail over his body, encircling his waist before dipping beneath the waistband of his pajamas and drawing his legs apart. Blunt fingernails knead the sensitive flesh over his hips and down his groin.

Father Do feels the searing flames licking up his spine, dulling his conscience's voice of caution and reason. Primal _want_ —licentious lust— and desire mount with each beat of his heart; he feels it in his chest, throat, and cock.

His knee bends, drawing the blankets off of himself and leaving him wanting. Warm whispers tickle his ear and neck, leaving feather-light kisses that burn.

Awake, Father Do sits up. He feels like he's not alone; someone was speaking to him.

His bedroom door is open. Tan the cat looks at him as she passes, tail rising as she decides to take advantage of his open door and comfortable bed.

He doesn't mind her company. She's familiar and relaxes him as he draws a hand down her back, rear bumping up into his palm for scratches at the base of her tail.

When his pulse slows and erection settles, he lies down again. Shame washes over him, taking him back to his childhood. Sexuality was sinful before marriage; as a priest, he took a vow of celibacy. In his mind, he views sex very differently. But no matter his personal beliefs, he can't shake the guilt and shame on his past partners and relationships.

He'd hoped giving himself to God would spare him additional torment, but evidently not.

It's probably due to the demon. He's shaking Father Do's faith, like he said he would.

Tossing the blankets aside, Father Do apologizes to Tan and slips out of bed to kneel on the floor. Closing his eyes, he clasps his hands together to pray for forgiveness, understanding, and the strength to remove the demon not only from his church but from the lives of mankind entirely.

After a fitful sleep, Father Do enters the kitchen to find the demon already awake. Someone’s made coffee, probably Father Kim. He always makes perfect coffee.

"Don't we look chipper," the demon remarks. "Sleep well?"

"No."

"If you need someone to whip you, I'll volunteer."

Father Do scowls at the demon. "Flagellation is a symbolic practise these days, remembering the son of God's suffering. Don't bastardize the suffering of Christ."

Jong’dae ambles into the kitchen, wearing boxers, a sweatshirt from Father Kim’s college, and nothing else. “Arguing already?”

“He didn’t sleep well.” Father Do scowls over his mug of coffee, squinting through the steam.

“I know a great way to relax and sleep at night,” Jong’dae chirps. “No medication or masks; all natural. I’d be happy to show you sometime.”

Father Kim enters the room, gently taking Jong’dae’s waist as he slips behind him to reach the refrigerator.

Father Do loses his appetite. He takes a piece of fruit from the bowl on the counter and leaves to begin his daily chores.

He eats out on the front steps and tosses the apple core into the bushes, where it joins other rotting apple cores. They should establish roots and sprout sometime, he tells himself. An apple tree would be nice to have. Some day, he’d like an orchard or farm of his own.

“Father Do?” A girl he recognises from mass stands at the end of the walkway, holding a purse printed with a pop idol group on the flap. “May I talk to you?”

“Of course. Come in—”

“N-Nevermind! I’m sorry!” She bows and all but runs away. Father Do rubs his neck and wonders what the problem could be. Most people who come for some sort of counselling are older, but he has worked with a few children. As far as he knows, the girl’s school and personal life are good; her parents adore her and have nothing but praise.

Turning to go back inside, he nearly steps into the demon. He stands with his arms over his chest, watching the direction the girl had gone. “Who was that?”

“A child from mass. She wanted to speak to me.”

“You scared her off, huh?”

Father Do goes around him, and the demon stands outside for a few minutes before closing the doors and returning indoors, as well.

As he prepares for mass, Father Do’s mind wanders as his body works on autopilot. He’s still tired; he spent a couple hours praying that morning.

Again, no miracle.

He worries for his friend, Father Kim; he worries about his dream; he worries about that child.

“You’ll get wrinkles, frowning like that.” Father Kim offers a half-smile, still walking on eggshells, and passes a goblet filled with wafers of sacramental bread.

“I can’t help but worry these days.”

“I know I’m part of your cause for worry, but please...know you can talk to me. I am still your friend.”

Father Do doesn’t know how to answer; he’s still hurt and confused. Since living with them, neither demon has done much more than make pests of themselves when they’re not actually helping or staying out of sight.

Their quiet moment is interrupted by organ music. Father Kim looks to the choir loft; from their angle, they can both see the demon seated at the large instrument, confident and at home with the keys and pedals.

“Very pretty… He’s talented.” Looking to Father Do, he asks, “Do you recognize the song? It sounds familiar.”

“I don’t know.” He closes the little doors and steps away from the altar with a brief bow. “I’ll ask.”

The demon acknowledges him with a glance but doesn’t stop playing as Father Do walks up the spiral stairs into the loft. Taking a seat, he allows himself a comfortable slouch and stares at the pipes, as though able to see the notes erupt from the openings and bounce off the painted ceiling.

As the final notes fade away, cutting off entirely when the demon spins around on the bench, Father Do opens his eyes which he didn’t realize he’d closed. “You play well.”

“Thank you.” He seems surprised but pleased with the compliment.

“What song was it? I didn’t recognize it.”

“Oh, because I made it up myself. I know others, but sometimes I just like to write my own.”

“It still sounded like praise to God.”

The demon shrugs, holding down random keys. “He may be a dick, but I still love my dad.” He looks out over the pews and altar. A massive crucifix hangs level with the loft; fuzzy cobwebs cling to Jesus’s face and arms. “The acoustics up here are incredible. No wonder Jong’dae loves sex up here.”

Father Do feels his ears grow hot and gets to his feet.

“Hey, don’t leave! We were having a moment!”

“You ruined it. Feel free to keep playing—it’s pretty.”

The demon frequently plays the organ—or guitar, when he discovers it in Father Do’s room. He’s definitely gifted.

The girl returns later, after Father Do had forgotten about her initial visit. She and her parents have been in mass but not approached him. It’s another morning when the girl visits on her own.

She’s nervous, approaching Father Do as though afraid to be seen. “Can I talk to you?”

Looking for the demons first, he ushers her inside and to the small office across from the broom closet.

Once she’s seated and the door closed, he sits across from her. “What is it?”

“Do you worry about eternal damnation, Father?”

“I suppose I do. It is something to consider, but living your life according to God and His teachings will keep us on a path to Heaven and forgiveness. Do _you_ worry about damnation?”

“Of course.” Her voice changes, falling to a deep register that draws out goosebumps over his arms. “All the time, Father.” Fingers bent like claws, she launches herself at him, aiming at his face and eyes.

For a child, she’s strong, and he doesn’t want to hurt her. Catching her wrists, she twists her arms across herself and pulls them down behind her.

Voices—numerous and inhuman—spill over one another like a strange, cacophonic echo, talking over one another but saying the same violent, lewd phrases and demanding something unintelligible, repeating themselves over and over and trying to knock the priest to the ground.

“Demon,” he states, “tell me your name!” He’s unprepared but has no choice but to expel the demons before they hurt her.

The door opens, scaring Father Do. His grip loosens, and the girl drives an elbow into his gut. As he falls, the demon grabs her face, covering it entirely with his hand. Blue flames engulf her body, a column from floor to ceiling. The demons’ screams rise to a single, shrill pitch as the girl is incinerated.

Nothing is left but ash. Neither floorboards nor ceiling are charred nor singed, but the stench of burned flesh and rotten eggs remain.

Breathing deep, Father Do gags and covers his mouth. His heart trembles, unsure if it should keep beating.

“Hey, it’s alright—” Smacking the offered hand away, Father Do stares at the murdering demon.

“ _Why did you do that?_ You killed that child!”

“She was already dead.”

“I was _just_ talking to her!”

“It was a ruse. Those demons were just using her; she was already _gone_.”

“How do you know? She could have been saved!”

“There was nothing to save! Her soul was corrupted beyond anything salvageable; removing the possessing demons would’ve left an empty shell.”

“At least there was something…” His fingers touch ash, and he wipes his hand on his pants. “How can I explain this to her parents? To the police?” He’s been putting off contacting the Vatican about Father Kim and Jong’dae. Will he have to confess to being an accessory to such a crime, as well? What will happen to their church? Their faithful parishioners?

“Sometimes...there is a greater good that needs to be allowed. She can find peace, now.”

“And her family?”

“Will learn to accept that what was done was necessary. Exorcisms are not always successful.”

“There’s always a body left behind.” Someone to bury and mourn.

Jong’dae looks around the other demon’s arm, making a face and toeing at the ash with his slipper before being stopped. Father Kim covers his nose and mouth with his sleeve. “What happened?”

“Exorcism became purification.”

Father Do scoffs, coughing with wet eyes. “He murdered a little girl.”

“I told you, Kyungsoo, there was nothing left of her!”

Before they can continue their argument, Father Kim takes the demons by their shoulders and drives them from the room. He takes Father Do more carefully, sitting him back on the rightened chair. He leaves, briefly, going to the broom closet, and then returns with a small broom and dustpan and empty box they usually keep around to bury dead birds that strike the windows.

“I am sorry, Kyungsoo. We can’t save them all.”

“I didn’t even get a chance.” He watches the other priest gently sweep the ashes into the pan and then dump it all into the box, careful to not spill any or leave little lines behind. “What do I tell her family?”

“I can talk to them. Tell them she was possessed by demons too vicious to release her, but her soul will find peace.” If it was Father Do’s child, he doesn’t think that would make him feel at all better. 

The child is still dead.

“I’ll call them and go to their house. We’ll plan a proper burial later.” He takes the box, murmuring soft prayers, and leaves Father Do alone with his swirling thoughts and the smell of sulfur.

For a while, both demons leave him alone, existing like ghosts at the periphery. He can’t imagine they feel sympathy or remorse; it seems more like sharks swimming in water becoming more and more murky from a bleeding animal, waiting for it to weaken and die before going to feast.

The girl’s funeral the following week is the most difficult Father Do has performed. The casket is closed and purely for decoration. He’s exhausted by the end of it and goes to his room early.

He’s lying down when he hears his door open; he hadn’t locked it like usual. “How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit,” Father Do replies. He doesn’t include the morose, _And I blame you,_ but the demon catches onto the implication.

“I listened from the window. You sounded good.”

Father Do throws his legs over the side of the bed to stand. “Wonderful, because _that’s_ what I was worried about.” He crosses to the window to glare at the happy sunlight and birds in the stone bath. His sour attitude doesn’t seem to bother the demon in the slightest. Rather, he gets closer, attracted by the tired lines around the priest’s eyes and the lack of demand for personal space.

“I’ve never watched someone die.” Little by little, humans crawl to the end of their life expancies each day. It’s inevitable; he expects it and prays for those who live their lives just waiting to die. “She didn’t deserve that. What could have happened to allow those demons to possess her?”

“Any number of things that you will never know.” The demon leans a shoulder against the wall. Father Do sees him watching in the reflection of the glass. “So why torture yourself? You don’t have to suffer for someone else’s sins.”

“Don’t I?” He thought it was the way of the Lord. Emulating Jesus, the man whose father created him to atone for all the sins of the world.

“Whatever happened to you, that you’re running from or trying to gain absolution for is unrelated to the little girl. Torturing yourself helps no one, least of all yourself.”

“You’re a counselor, now?”

He shrugs. “I’m a good listener.”

“Your mouth is bigger than your ears; you talk an awful lot.”

“My mouth is even better at other things.” The demon shifts his weight, blocking the door with his body. “Should I show you?”

Father Do steps back, heart beating a warning in his ears. The demon follows him. “Why are you here, Demon?”

“Tell me what you think.” His fingers curl around Father Do’s wrists, fingertips brushing the pulse.

“I believe you were sent to test my faith...as well as my patience.” Moving on autopilot, he leans his head back to look into the demon’s face, consciously ready to defy and reject him once again—

—but he’s caught by his own reflection and stunned by how little heat there is in his stare, spreading instead over his cheeks in a blush.

He doesn’t flinch when hot fingers brush his cheek, leaning into the palm. They share a breath before sealing their lips together. Flames and electricity shoot down Father Do’s spine to explode in his chest and belly.

“You’re just trying to be a good shepherd,” the demon whispers, although they’re alone, “helping a wayward sheep.”

“Little did I know that sheep was a wolf in disguise.”

The demon shrugs and gets on his knees, smiling with many teeth. His flesh darkens to near black; the skin at his temples splits and bleeds, horns of bone curling from his forehead. A whip of a tail lashes behind him like a playful cat’s. 

Father Do catches a rivulet of blood with his thumb, drawing it up to the base of the horn and leaving a reddish smear. Taking the demon by the chin, he passes his bloodied thumb across his bottom lip. “Tell me your name, Demon.”

“Xagthuljyg'drixadnogmoxothychan’yeol,” the name the lesser demons had demanded to see, “but my friends call me Chan’yeol.”

“Are we friends?”

“I think we’re past that, now, Father.”

Father Do’s back hits the wall, making frames clap and fall. A crucifix jumps and catches itself by the bottom on a lower, exposed nail and hangs like a man by his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> There were three fics I was considering remixing. Go figure I chose the one non-XiuChen, going completely against the super obvious brand...
> 
> But here it is. I was attracted by the blasphemy.
> 
> I was only raised Catholic; I do not claim to know its rules or habits beyond what I remember from those few years I was forced to go to church. I literally Googled "priest billy club holy water" to find the actual name of the aspergillum.


End file.
